Change of Plans
by bleeping-bleep
Summary: With pending internships and a promising athletic career halfway through college, Jamie has her future planned to a tee—until her brother gets his first car. Real life isn't quite as perfect caught in the middle of an alien robot war, but she has to adapt. Especially since Sam's Camaro is a dream. Dream car, that is...or at least that's what she tells herself. Bumblebee/OC
1. Homecoming

Hello, and welcome to our Obligatory Sam's Sister/Autobot fic!

The autobot in particular is, as you must already know, Bumblebee. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. A friend of ours was the one who initially asked me to write this, but I fell in love with Bumblebee m'self after watching the movie again and happily took it on. (This is actually a solo writing project of **Elis**, though Senna did collaborate for some of the non-movie scenes you'll see later. Text-wise, **Senna** has little to do with this, since she's terribly busy with school. By busy I mean we only talk sometimes and when we do, she's drowning in textbooks. So if you're a **Province of Men** reader wondering why we're working on something else and not PoM, it's not that! **Senna** is PoM's main writer, and since she hasn't come out with the first draft of the next chapter yet, I have nothing to add on. Totally not my fault. -cough-)

Anyway, yes, she's Sam's older sister, so you won't see the school scenes much here. Everything else you likely will, with a touch of Jamie (the OC). I'd explain the character off, but we'd like you to get to know her yourself!

Enjoy! And we'd love to hear what you think afterward.

* * *

><p><strong>Change of Plans<strong>

**Chapter 1: Homecoming**

Jamie hated packing. Mostly because packing entailed _un_packing, and her nail clippers always inexplicably disappeared—but it was a stress reliever, and her friends were causing her an insane amount of stress this morning. So, tucking the last of her things into her bulky bag, she pressed her palms against the pile and grinned. She could already hear them from the hallway.

"Jamie!" the door swung open, whining noisily with two girls: the first, Lauren, all blonde hair and bright eyes, and the other, Aya, naturally pale with distinctly Japanese features. Lauren crossed her arms in displeasure. "Are you sure you can't go with us to the cruise?"

"Nope," she replied, giving them an apologetic chuckle as she slammed her suitcase shut. Tying her shoulder-length red hair into a ponytail, she said, "You'll have to do this one without me, ladies."

"But it's the _Caribbean_!" Aya cried, expertly leaping across the room to land on Jamie's bed and curling up into the sheets. Lauren muttered something that sounded like _showoff_. "This cruise will be the highlight of our college lives! Next to winning the championships, anyway, and our Europe trip after grad..."

Lauren and Aya had been the best of friends since high school, but upon entry into Princeton were physically separated by one Jamie Witwicky—the former's assigned roommate. As easy as it would have been to convince her to switch rooms with Aya, the two decided to adopt her—the only one in her high school class who'd decided to stick to Princeton—and it was a good thing, too. By some lazy stroke of fate, they'd all been drafted by the same coach into the women's track and field team.

The two had dreamt of going on a cruise since high school, but were unable to before college—hence the Caribbean trip that fall recess. Jamie would have loved to join Lauren and Aya, but she'd spent the last summer on a cross-country road trip with them, with only a week saved for her family. Dad hadn't been happy, and allowed her only on the condition that she stayed with them for fall recess.

"You know it was this cruise or the summer road trip," she reminded them.

Lauren grabbed a pillow from her side of the room, decorated in posters of her favorite actors, and hurled it at a squirming Aya. "Stop whining," she laughed, green eyes twinkling. "You forget Jamie here's from _LA_."

"Oooh," Aya teased Jamie, all the while avenging herself by hurling Jamie's pillows at Lauren. "Party girl!"

"You guys are so lame," Jamie giggled, ducking out of the way of the escalating pillow fight to grab her earphones from her sidetable drawer. Lauren attacked her with an outlying scrunchie anyway. "Hey!"

"_Lame_," repeated Lauren, feigning confusion by scratching her head, "who still says that?"

"Miss plans-and-all-put-together, of course," Aya grinned, ceasing her volley of pillows in favor of swinging her knees over the edge of Jamie's bed. "Come on, Jamie! My dad can still move your flight a few days. Your parents won't even know! This'll be _fuuun_! Can't you just go home early?"

"If it'll be anything like our summer trip, no thanks," she joked. "But really, not this time. But enjoy the sightseeing—for my sake!"

"I'll be doing a helluva lot of sightseeing, all right," Aya cackled.

"Same here," Lauren winked. "Just don't tell Tony."

"And I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Jamie replied, pretending to gag. Aya rolled her eyes in agreement. They both knew it was a lie: Lauren and Tony, one of the soccer guys, were so into each other that it was unspoken rule to just not go on double dates with them. Not that Jamie had dated since freshman year, but Aya's experiences were enough to stave them off double dates for good.

"Okay, I'm ready," Jamie locked her suitcase, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder, and smiled at her friends. "Who wants to drive me to the airport?"

"We're taking my car," said Aya, picking up the pillows and tossing them back in place. "Jamie, what would you do without us?"

"Probably implode from being so organized and helpless," answered Lauren.

"Or stop getting heart attacks for once, without your antics," was her own response.

The two laughed, leaving the dorm room and stepping out into the silence of a hallway in the middle of midterms week. Jamie took one final, sweeping glance at the room. Her side was as organized as Lauren's (and Aya's, who often slept over) was utter chaos, and she couldn't help but grin.

Jamie was going to miss this, but it was only two weeks. She'd be back before she knew it, and nothing would have changed.

* * *

><p>A cab pulled up in front of a brown house, its old muffler providing the only sound in the quiet suburban neighborhood that sunny afternoon. Then again, Jamie mused, stepping out of the car, everyone said it was always sunny here.<p>

"Thanks," Jamie handed her cab driver the amount on the meter and a little tip—the fare was cheaper than usual, so she gave him a bit more—and took her suitcase from him. "Have a good day!"

"You too," he waved, tucking the cash into his pocket for the time being. "Good luck with that, uh, reunion."

When he drove off, Jamie sighed. She hated car rides.

Well, not car rides, _per se_. More the lulling sense of freedom she felt in a tiny moving vehicle that got her to talk more than she should—especially to whoever was driving, especially because she was a terrible driver. Her dad had spent money getting her actual formal lessons, but she just couldn't get the hang of it. Her mom joked that it was why she took track.

At least she was here now—though her dad didn't seem to be around, since the car was out. The heat compared to the east coast she hadn't exactly missed, but it was home, sweet home.

The front yard was renovated, _again_, though she wasn't surprised. Her dad could never decide where to put the fountain, and constantly moved his 'path' around depending on where it was at any given time. Now it was in the middle, right in front of the door, right where it had started when they'd first gotten a fountain.

Chuckling to herself, it was only then when Jamie realized that as much as she would miss her friends, she'd missed her parents, too. As for her brother, they were always chatting online, sending random links and ranting to each other—and she would never seriously admit missing him to his face, anyway.

Two steps was all it took before her mom Judy came screaming out of the house. "My baby!" she cried, arms wide open and trapping Jamie in an unexpectedly tight embrace. Her mom was powerful for such a skinny woman. "My baby girl is home!"

"Hi mom," Jamie grinned, kissing her on the cheek. "Where's dad? Sam still in class?"

"Oh, they're out getting the car you never wanted," she said dismissively, clearly wanting to say something else. "When did you get here?"

"That hurts," Jamie muttered. "Or it would if I could drive."

"Honey, how did you get here so early?" her mom insisted. Her Southern accent was even more prominent when she was determined to get her way. "Ron wasn't supposed to pick you up till next week!"

"You know Aya's dad. He has, like, a billion free points to spend, so he got me this one-way trip here early. And Lauren and I got our professors to let us take early exams, so..." Jamie waved, gesturing at the situation in general. "We're off for two weeks. This one and fall recess!"

"That's wonderful!" said Judy, motioning to the unfinished stepping stones her husband was still in the middle of fixing. "You can help your dad set up the path! He's moved it again, and you know how Sam is with the garden..."

"Yeah, all right," Jamie nodded, pulling her things from the sidewalk up on the grass. "Just don't tell dad I was on his grass again. Though I guess—"

"He can tell," mother and daughter mocked in unison, then laughed, only to be interrupted by a small creature that tried very hard to sound intimidating.

"Hi, Mojo!" Jamie set her things on the front porch before crouching down before the Chihuahua, neck dangling with sparkling necklaces and a cast around his leg. "Didja miss me? Hey..." He whimpered as she touched the bandage on his leg and recoiled. "Whoa, sorry, Mojo. Mom, what happened to him?"

Judy's eyes glanced around shiftily. "He got into a little, uh, _accident_."

"What kind of accident?"

The woman pretended not to hear her until she finally sighed, rolling her eyes. "I might've loaded him in the washing machine..."

Jamie gasped, gingerly lifting the dog into her arms. "Mom!"

Judy gestured helplessly at the Chihuahua. "Look at that precious thing, he's tiny!"

"Poor Mojo," she shook her head, feigning disappointment at her mom. So this was what Sam had meant the other night when he mentioned being pissed at Mom for some reason, except she'd had to study before he could explain further.

"But his bling is gorgeous, right?" Judy asked, changing the subject.

Jamie didn't notice and replied, "Oh, yeah! It's adorable!"

Her mom clapped, pleased at someone finally appreciating her handiwork on the dog. It was really too bad Sam had no taste in accessories. "Come in already! Did you have lunch at the plane?"

"No. I picked up a sandwich at the airport, but that was hours ago. What was for lunch?" asked Jamie, following her inside the living room and taking a whiff. She set Mojo down. That definitely smelled like home. The house looked the same—inside renovations were much more expensive and time-consuming, according to her dad, so he didn't change it often—all warm colors and cozy walls, the kind she didn't have in the dorm. The kitchen past that was still a mess. Dad had long ago made the distinction that Jamie had him to thank for being so organized, and she definitely got that now.

Before Judy could answer (and at that point, Jamie wasn't sure she wanted to know), a loud rumbling announced more arrivals at the front yard—in particular, an angry Ron Witwicky groaning about his grass. Her mom waved at her to stay put and met them at the door.

"What is that?" she could hear her mom say from the door.

"Old Camaro," answered her father, hanging his car keys at the rack. "Got it for a bargain. Four thousand flat. Judy, did you get on my grass again?"

"That's nice," said her mom, ignoring his whining. "But I have a better bargain!"

"Oh?" His voice took an almost sultry tone. Jamie actually gagged. She hated hearing this sweet talk stuff from her parents. "Is it something nice for me?"

Her mom giggled. "Not that, you silly man!"

"Then what is it?" she could tell from her dad's tone that he was frowning, and _that_ was her cue. "Don't tell me it's another—Jamie! When did you get back?"

"Hi, dad!" Jamie laughed, emerging from the kitchen and accepting his bear hug, though she actually had a stronger grip. Must've gotten that from mom, she thought humorously. "About an hour ago. Aya's dad has lots of points, so he got me a trip home and the girls got a Caribbean cruise. Took our midterms early," she summarized before he could ask.

"Right, right." Ron's eyes narrowed at her. "You didn't bring anyone home, did you? Remember—"

"No sacrifice, no victory," sighed Jamie. "I know, dad, no dating again till _after_ college."

"You are such a stick in the mud," Judy shook her head at her husband. "Jamie, it is _fine _if you want to date again! But preferably someone as handsome and maybe, you know, muscular, like Nathan was..."

"Judy!" Ron groaned.

"Uh, okay. Great advice, mom." Jamie smiled awkwardly and motioned to the yard. "I'm gonna go check out the new—"

"Oh."

Jamie stopped at the sight of Sam at the door, schoolbag over his shoulder. Despite the obvious difference in hair color, people said they looked almost too much alike—the round face, the green eyes, the nose, the humor, though neither believed that last one. The two watched each other, staring almost warily with one brow quirked high, testing the other to speak, until Sam shrugged.

"Hey, James. When did you get back?"

Jamie feigned nonchalance as she looked over her nails. "A little while ago. _Samantha_."

Not a lot of people knew, but her full name was _Jamie Samantha_ T. Witwicky. Sam's? _Samuel James_ T. Witwicky. Ron was to thank for that: he and Judy had kept their eldest's sex a secret even to themselves until the birth, though he was _so_ sure it was a boy, could feel it in his veins, he said—but named the child Jamie, just to be sure. And when she came out as a girl, well...Samantha was tacked on. Four years later, when he finally had a son, he gave him the name he'd always wanted a son of his to have: Samuel James.

So, generally, Sam and Jamie just agreed that their parents were weird, and they loved them for it—but also that they should keep the name thing a secret if they could.

Similar eyes squinted at one another. The older one finally grinned, "I bet you missed me more than I missed you."

"I doubt it," said her younger brother, equally amused. "All _I _thought about was my new car. Wanna see it?"

* * *

><p>It was a faded yellow Camaro, two wide stripes of black painted at the center of its hood running down its trunk. Jamie traced a finger on the hood and flicked the dust off.<p>

"Not bad," she commented. "Just needs a good wash. And a new paint job, if you can afford it."

"Took me ages to get those two thousand dollars," Sam shook his head. "I think I'll be broke for a while."

Jamie tried to fight down a telling smile as she asked, "Hey, weren't you selling our great-great-grandpa's stuff? Got any bids on that?"

"Oh, right!" Sam hopefully snapped a finger. "I'll check in a bit."

"Uh-huh." Jamie snickered and headed into the Camaro, taking the driver's seat. She turned the wheel left and right, then noticed the insignia in the center. It was some kind of face. "Sam, what's this?"

Sam glanced up from his cellphone—probably Miles, because Sam would mention if he had a girlfriend, and anyway, the latter was a little unlikely—to peer through the lowered window. "I noticed that too, but I have no idea. Must come with the custom job."

She nodded in comprehension. "How does it drive?"

Sam lifted a brow at that. "Why?" he asked humorously. "You driving?"

Jamie made a face at him. "Hilarious."

Sam bowed in jest and answered seriously, "Weird enough, it's almost like brand new. Not anything rickety like you'd expect."

"Really?" Jamie blinked. "That _is _weird."

"Yep. Well, except for the smoke. I'd let you take it for a spin, but, y'know..."

"I get it!" she threw her hands in the air. "I can't drive!"

Sam laughed. "Okay. I'm gonna take my stuff up." Tossing her the keys through the window, he headed back for the house, but backtracked a little and pointed an accusatory finger at her. "_Don't_ leave town. Or the garage."

Jamie rolled her eyes but waved him away. She'd get her comeuppance soon. Alone in the car, she took her time inspecting its contents. Old radio, old leather seats, dusty dashboard, weird insignia, and a bunch of dirty stuffed toys in the back. Hanging from the rear-view mirror was an angry cartoon bumblebee with the words, "Bee-otch."

"Heh, bee-otch," Jamie chuckled, tired from her flight, and yawned. She only had herself to blame for planning way too many things and never giving herself enough free time, but she was really going to have to take a long rest before she went out with her high school friends the next evening. Leaning against the seat and turning on her side, she realized the car wasn't actually too bad for something so old. The seats were still comfortable, hard like new leather. It looked old, but sort of smelled new...

"Huh?" she pressed her face to the headrest and sniffed, then frowned. "It does smell new. Either that's really good maintenance or...just weird. Wonder if Sam..."

Jamie stepped out of the car and called out, "Hey, Sam! I just noticed something!"

Sam's window slammed open as her brother stuck his head out. He looked less than pleased compared to his teasing just minutes ago. "Yeah, me too, Jamie. Real funny! You really get your humor from dad!"

"What are you two yelling about?" said father stepped out of the house. Sam shut his window at them both, so Ron, arms crossed, was left to interrogate his daughter. "Enlighten me."

Jamie smiled sheepishly. "He might have been selling..._things_...on eBay, and I might have bid for...a dollar or two? What did you do, dad?"

Ron dropped his serious countenance and snickered. "Made him think he was getting a _Porsche_."

"Okay, that was cruel," she agreed, covering her mouth as she chuckled just in case Sam was still listening. Soon enough, her dad went back inside—and when he did, the car behind her let out an odd groan. Almost like something had tried to move it.

Jamie whirled around, but nothing seemed to have happened. Frowning, she approached the Camaro and climbed into the back seat. Nothing there, just the...

"Ugh," she coughed, a musty smell seeping into her throat. "What the...? How did that happen?"

Then she felt like an idiot. Why was she even talking to a car? One that suddenly smelled as old as it looked?

"Anyway," she said, since she was already at it, "I'm taking these."

Swiping the lion stuffed toy from the dashboard and the other plushies from the backseat, Jamie moved to open the door—only it was jammed. She tried the other one, and the driver's seat door, and the passenger seat door—all locked. Her fingers pried at the locks, attempting to lift them, but they were stuck. And the driver's seat window had been rolled up. Jamie guessed she did that when Sam had gone up without realizing it. But that wasn't the problem.

"Hey!" Jamie yelled, slamming the glass window. "Dad! Sam! Can you hear me? I'm stuck in the car!"

No luck. She groaned. "Why do I always leave my phone lying around instead of in my pocket? Come on!" she kicked the door and regretted it immediately. This thing was sturdy. Not that she was of the habit of kicking car doors. "I need to wash these stuffed toys to put off unpacking, then nap! _Open_!"

Jamie might have added _sesame_ if the door hadn't opened by itself. She fell forward, stuffed toys falling before her as she raised her arms to shield her face, but jerked painfully back on the driver's seat. Groaning in pain, she glanced over at what had saved her—a seatbelt buckle that had gotten stuck in her belt strap.

"Don't know if I'm lucky or unlucky today," she grumbled, snapping it off her and picking up the stuffed toys. She slammed the car door and left for the house. "But that car is dangerous to my health."

* * *

><p>The following evening, Sam set the table for two with a wide grin on his face. Just a while ago, he'd experienced the best afternoon of his life—how many guys not like Trent could say they'd taken Mikaela Banes home in his (not so) brand new car? Sure, they'd talked about her exes and her annoying inclination to jocks like Trent, and Miles—after expressing his disappointment about being ditched at the party, but whatever—was pretty sure that wasn't what girls who were into you talked about, he'd talked to <em>Mikaela<em>. He'd meant what he said in the car—there was more to her than met the eye.

Sam groaned at the memory. Those words would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He was seesawing between being utterly happy and smacking himself for being such an idiot when his sister came down in party clothes and heels. She wore her usual amount of clubbing make-up, from what he remembered, but he could tell by the way she blinked and yawned that she was still waking up from her afternoon nap.

Jamie and her clutch slumped at the dinner table as she leaned her chin against her fist. "What's for dinner, Samantha?"

"Glad you asked, James," said Sam, and transferred his creations onto a bunch of plates. With a flourish of his arm, he motioned to each dish. "Over here we have strips of smoked pork loin. If you look to your right, you'll find the freshest frankfurters from Vienna with a side of crispy toasted bread. To top that off, I've added your favorite—folded eggs."

His sister took a whiff of the stuff and smiled. "Ah. Breakfast food at its finest."

"I prefer the term _haute cuisine_. Unless you wanna make your own dinner."

"I'm starving, so _haute cuisine_ it is!" Jamie dug into the toast and folded eggs first. Halfway through chewing, she glanced up curiously. "Where are mom and dad?"

Sam took the seat across her and dropped most of the bacon on his own plate. Jamie was more of a sausage person, anyway. "Out with friends. Uncle Jack and the rest, y'know. Your _Jamie-is-visiting_ dinner's not till next Saturday."

"Oh, right," Jamie nodded, then gave him a peculiar look. "What are you smiling about?"

He hadn't even noticed that he was grinning again. "Well," Sam began, failing to restrain his glee, "this afternoon I took the Camaro to a party at the lake with Miles—"

"Miles!" she interrupted. "How is he?"

"He's fine," was his grumbling answer. He missed the days Jamie and Miles thought of each other as total weirdos—ever since the three of them tried this stupid parkour course back when Jamie was a high school senior, they'd actually started to tolerate each other. (That and because they both found it funny that he'd sucked. Not cool.) "Same weird stuff. Anyway...Mikaela was there. She's this really gorgeous girl from school, you know, dates jocks usually, but they had a fight about his car and I offered to bring her home. Then the Camaro freaked out, but then it worked! I got to drive her home tonight."

"The Camaro freaked out?" repeated Jamie. "I thought it rode like new?"

"Guess not," Sam said impatiently. Jamie paid attention to the most insignificant details sometimes. "The radio kept freaking out. Engine even got busted, but Mikaela said it had nice headers."

"...What does that even mean?"

Sam shrugged. Admittedly, he had another thing on his mind when recalling that particular memory.

The plate clanged as Jamie set her fork down and chewed. "Wait a second. I thought you went with Miles?"

"Oh, yeah, but he, uh, left. So I could bring Mikaela home."

Jamie gave him a look he knew well. She knew Miles wouldn't leave her brother—especially since he was his ride to the lake and back. Supposedly. "Wow. _Wow_, Sam. Party foul."

"Okay, you need to stop being friends with my friends," Sam decided with a groan. "And really? That's your takeaway from this? We're talking about Mikaela Banes!"

"I know, I know, love of your life," Jamie muttered—or maybe spat was the better word. "But I know a thing or two about _loves of your life_. Don't get your hopes up."

"Nuh-uh, you can't use that. You never talked about it," Sam pointed out. Then he wanted to put his foot in his mouth as soon as he said it, because Jamie gave him this seriously wounded look—and she never got that look. If anyone could dish it out and take it, it was probably his crazy sister. Except when it came to this.

But he was right: she'd never talked about her break-up with Nathan, who'd been her boyfriend since early high school. Mom and dad were already talking about how they were probably going to end up together until Jamie called them up in the middle of freshman year college to declare that Nathan had cheated and it was over. Dad would have run the idiot off with a bat when he tried to come over and explain himself to their parents in Jamie's absence if Sam hadn't just asked him to leave. Tactful as mom was, she'd pried and pressed, but his sister was like a brick wall. Even he'd never mentioned it till now.

Sam coughed. "Uh, sorry."

"It's fine," Jamie grinned, anything that resembled regret gone from her face. "So, this Mikaela—is she getting back with her douche boyfriend?"

"I don't know," muttered Sam. "I mean, she said—"

He gave her the details of their conversation—even the _more than meets the eye_ thing, which she'd never let him live down. Why was he such a good younger brother? She used to tell him stuff like this about Nathan, so he figured it made up for his slip-up earlier. Before she could fully take advantage of it, though, a car honked outside.

"Uh-oh. That's them. Lemme just use the bathroom." Jamie ran off, and Sam was left to wonder how anyone could jump in such high heels. Seconds and heels noisily clacking on dad's path later, someone rang the doorbell. He figured it was a track thing as he went to answer the door.

It was Lucy, one of Jamie's old teammates from high school. She was older than his sister by a few years, so she was already working back at South Gate. "Hi, Sam!" she greeted loudly, her thick blonde hair bouncing behind her ponytail as she hugged him. "We hear another Witwicky is in town!"

He smiled, patting her on the back. "Hey, Luce. Yeah, she'd need a ride to get anywhere, though."

"Lucky for her we've got one right here!" Lucy laughed, waving her arms wildly before pointing to a car filled with three more girls across the yard. "Hey, Jamie! Get out here!"

Jamie appeared next to Sam with a roll of her eyes. "Have a little pre-party fun, Luce?"

"I'm still sober," Lucy insisted, "just excited! Come on!"

"All right, all right!" Jamie let her friend tug her toward the door. "And really, Sam? You can barely talk to Mikaela but you can talk to my old track friends? They're hot, too."

"Yeah, I know..." Sam tilted his head side to side to gauge his own words. "In their time."

"I heard that!" Lucy snapped.

"Sorry, Luce. Besides, you're like my sister," Sam called after them.

Jamie gave a playful eyeroll. "I'm getting out of here before you say something you regret."

"Good idea. I'll see you tomorrow morning, I guess," Sam teased. "Or afternoon?"

"Who knows with Jamie!" Lucy cheered.

"Hey, hey! I'm not that girl anymore," Jamie protested, but her cries fell on deaf ears as Lucy dragged her into the car with their old friends.

Sam waved goodbye in amusement. His sister probably wouldn't get back till morning, if she was still as crazy now as she was in high school. Though Jamie insisted she was more disciplined these days, especially with more rigorous track and field training, Sam didn't entirely buy it. He was pretty sure he was the only real sane person in his family. Then Mojo.

At least, until he witnessed his car standing up hours later.


	2. Suddenly, Acquainted

Welcome back!

Sorry this took a while. I'm crazy busy at work, and so is **Senna** with school, for you PoM readers :( Anyway, thank you to everyone who added **Change of Plans **to their Follow/Favorite lists! And to **XxMichelleMikaelsonxX** and **Alice Gone Madd** for your interest! Hehe. Very happy you like it so far!

This chapter is very short, obviously. I'm sorry. The next one will be longer, though I admit I very much enjoyed writing Bumblebee's point of view*****. And man was it hard to look for only songs that existed before 2007!

Also, **something to note in this chapter**: In the movie, the morning after Sam is arrested, he stays in bed until he finally gets up and greets Mojo good morning in the kitchen, then spots Bumblebee, after which he runs off and is found by Barricade. Then he sees Mikaela and they're saved by Bumblebee, a chase scene ensues, and Barricade and Bumblebee duke it out at night. I can't believe that they spent the whole day driving away from Barricade, so in the fic, that happens toward the end of the day. When Sam says 'good morning' to Mojo, let's pretend that the only reason he said that was because it was the first time he'd gotten out of bed since the events early that morning (he was chased by his car, he was arrested, interrogated by a weirdo at the station, and picked up by his dad) got him tired. Anyway, you'll see what I mean later.

*****The romance is going to take a bit, by the way. An alien robot and a fleshy human take a while to get used to each other. But it will come! On that note, I should probably let you know that Change of Plan will only include until the Revenge of the Fallen film. While I love the idea of everything that could be explored between the Bumblebee and Jamie in Dark of the Moon and the fallout preceding Age of Extinction, the events there won't be happening in this universe.

Enjoy! Also, review! Would love to hear what you think.

* * *

><p><strong>Change of Plans<strong>

**Chapter 2: Suddenly, Acquainted**

Jamie would be lying if she said she didn't miss staying out all night with her friends without having to worry about training early the next morning. After a long dinner and dessert in some restaurant in the city that had cropped up in her absence, Lucy and the others—Jane, their designated driver, Fen, and her older sister Tai who'd tagged along in order to meet up with her friends later that night—took her to Empire, the newest club in the city's nightlife scene. It sounded familiar to Jamie, but it was a pretty generic name. She chalked it up to her own imagination.

Empire had the usual club set-up, but what Jamie loved about it was the drinks. They'd always gone club-hopping for her sake because her favorite drinks were scattered around the city, but this place had everything! Not to mention the music was great, and the dance floor wasn't only huge—it was genuinely packed.

Four hours later, Jamie was a happy, accommodating drunk, so someone else's company was essential. Tonight, Lucy had elected to stay with her. "_So_," Lucy prodded, knowing the girl's wasted grin, "how are you? Anyone in college?"

"You guys already asked me that question!" Jamie laughed, waving at Fen at the dance floor from their table. She could spot Fen and Jane with their guys Wistram and Evan, while Tai wasn't far off dancing with her fiancé and her own group of friends. "No," she singsonged, then saluted out of nowhere. "I'm all business. No sacrifice, no victory! The—"

"Witwicky motto, I know," Lucy chuckled. Then, suddenly, her expression became serious. Even drunk, Jamie recognized that look from whenever the team did badly and she was about to give them a stern heart-to-heart. "But, you know...what about Nathan?"

Jamie made a funny face. "What about _Nick_?" Lucy's fiancé.

"Don't change the subject, young lady," Lucy teased. "You two were perfect! Then two years ago you up and broke it off! We were all heartbroken."

"Nuh-uh," Jamie rolled her eyes, then lifted her glass to the dim lighting to peer through it, and seemed to swoon. "How much did you pay to get into this club, Luce? These drinks are the best!"

"They're free. For you."

Jamie turned, smile frozen on suddenly rigid features. Seeing him felt like getting sobered up in a flash—dizzying with some familiar emotion she didn't know how to handle anymore. To her right, she heard Lucy explain, "Nathan owns the club. Remember?"

She did, now. Nathan had been in talks with one of his best friends to open up their own club when Jamie was going off to college. She'd gotten busy with school, then, that freshman year, though they'd already been drifting before that since her induction to the university team had started once summer came around. He'd call her up sometimes, ask for feedback and updates on how training was going. _I love you_, he'd said. _Come home for the grand opening, will you?_

"Slipped my mind, sorry!" Jamie forced out, teeth gritted in another grin. Then, grabbing Lucy's hand, she tugged in the direction of the dance floor. "It's getting hot. Let's dance!"

Nathan held her back by the shoulder. "Jamie, can we talk?"

"Jamie..." Thinking she was helping, Lucy murmured close to her ear over the music, "It's just a few minutes."

"But I want to _dance_," she whined.

"Jamie, please," said Nathan. "Let me explain. You never let me..."

The Witwicky made the mistake of glancing back. Nathan had been everything she'd ever wanted—tall and broad-shouldered, blond, blue-eyed, confident almost to the point of arrogance, but never to her. She'd fit him into her plan for her future, and just like her parents, she'd figured he would propose once she got out of college. Maybe even during.

But that was two years ago—to her, like a lifetime.

It was hatred that bubbled in Jamie's chest. All this time, she thought she'd be too weak to face him, but it was the complete opposite. He was more handsome than ever, the stubble giving him an even more masculine look—and all she wanted was to scratch his face off. Of her life, forever. But that would be violent, so she picked up her glass and threw her drink at his face instead.

"Jamie!" Lucy gasped in horror.

Those surrounding them watched her with shock and disdain, wondering what caused such a childish act, and at the owner, no less. Soon after, bouncers appeared out of nowhere. "Don't," Nathan ordered right as Jamie said it, hands in the air.

"You don't need to throw me out. I'm leaving," Jamie declared, shrugging from Lucy's grasp as she stormed off.

Their friends saw the commotion from the dance floor, having expected the meeting—but not the outcome. Leaving their boyfriends for the moment, they followed Lucy on her way out, where Jamie paced angrily away from the line still waiting to get in.

"I'm sorry, Jamie, but we were your team, and you never told us _anything_," said Lucy. "I mean, even your parents wouldn't. Even Sam."

"Because I asked them not to interfere, just like I asked you! And I never told you because I knew you were friends with Nathan. I didn't want to ruin him for you!" Jamie replied, shoving her into Fen. Jane moved to separate them at once. Jamie allowed it, but her voice grew louder as she spoke, and she was yelling by the end of it. "I don't know what that asshole told you, but he _cheated _on me. With Amy Hampton from tennis, a year younger—and not just once. What did _he _tell you? That we'd drifted apart? That _I_ was the unreasonable one? That's it, right?"

Jane, Fen, and Lucy stared at her, mouths ajar. The latter part was exactly what Nathan had told them, and the former was exactly what they'd never imagined could be. Jamie and Nathan been that one couple who jumped in and out of the honeymoon stage, both hanging on to the word of the other, completely lovesick...

Lucy sighed, rubbing a hand over her face in embarrassment. "Jamie, I'm so sorry, I had no idea—"

"Of course you had no idea! You go around thinking you know everything about us just because you were team captain in your time!" Jamie shouted. "How's it feel, Luce? Or do I still have to prove to you how I found out for you to back off?"

"Jamie, stop," Fen pleaded.

"Whatever," she waved her arm in a wild gesture of dismissal, turning on her heel and walking away. "I'm going home."

Jane caught up with her while Fen held Lucy still. "Jamie, at least let me drive you back."

"No!"

"Those heels are going to kill you on the way home. If someone else doesn't. Come_ on_."

"...Fine."

* * *

><p>That same evening was one of the weirdest nights of Sam Witwicky's life. He'd woken up long past midnight to his car being stolen, chased the bastard to some junkyard, then realized the car had been stealing itself. Because it was actually some kind of living robot thing doing—what? Trying to get beamed up or something?! He hadn't had the chance to check when a bunch of rabid dogs discovered and tried to kill him, and then his car was a Camaro again and trying to run him over, and then the police arrived and the evil thing disappeared somehow while <em>he <em>got arrested.

The Camaro's name was Bumblebee, and Bumblebee wasn't actually a Camaro—but he had been on a mission. In his defense, he hadn't known that he had not, in fact, lost Samuel Witwicky on his way to send a message to his comrades until he heard the familiar high-pitched screaming from afar, and he'd really only come back in an attempt to chase the dogs away. After that, he decided that it was probably best to, as humans put it, 'lay low' for the time being. Maybe return to the house and see if the boy's family would believe that the car had been 'returned.'

Bumblebee rolled into the parking space outside the Witwicky garage, prepared to rest for the time being as he waited—and that was when a familiar car arrived. It was Jamie Witwicky, Sam's sister, driven home by her friend. They both looked much less excited than they had when they first left early this evening.

"Thanks, Jane," Jamie said flatly.

"Anytime," said her friend. "Listen—I'm sorry. We all are. I hope we can meet up again before you go back."

"Yeah," she answered, and Jane drove away.

Once her friend disappeared completely, Jamie let out a long sigh. She walked slowly, shoulders slumped, heels clacking unevenly like she was about to trip—the world wide web said that balancing in shoes like hers could be difficult sometimes—but she never did. By the time she reached his hood, she was sniffing. Bumblebee realized then that she was crying, and though it wasn't part of his mission, he wondered why.

Maybe he could help her, he thought. Bumblebee had figured he was good at helping humans—he'd certainly helped Sam talk to that girl he wanted so badly to impress. That and Jamie _had _thoughtfully cleaned the stuffed toys he had collected on his way to the Witwicky family. That was nice. Before she could pass the back end of the car on her way to the house, the Camaro opened his door to her, expecting surprise and an inspection. But all she did was walk blindly into it.

"Ow!" she growled, cursing under her breath, and finally noticed him. "Why did you do that...?" she asked, voice quivering as her hands groped her midsection, where she'd hit herself on him.

And then Jamie Witwicky burst into tears.

Bumblebee was thrown off. Why was she crying so much? Up close, he realized that she smelled of smoke and alcohol. A quick search on the internet told him that she had gone out 'clubbing,' and had returned intoxicated, hence the heightened emotions. Food would calm her down, but the Camaro didn't like human food inside him. It invited all kinds of vermin.

"Stupid car," she wept, but glanced toward the house. Then, apparently coming to some sort of decision, she climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. Jamie leaned against the wheel, shoulders shaking as she cried aloud. "I wish I could just drive far away," were words he recognized amid her incoherent sobbing. Then she released a scream out of nowhere that made Bumblebee almost jump. "I'm so angry! I didn't want him back anymore—but I didn't think I'd still be so mad... And what gets me is that I actually thought I could forgive him as a friend if he'd just left me alone and didn't make himself sound like the victim, _like he always does_!"

She ranted on about how 'he' had still had an effect on her, how her friends had gone behind her back without knowing anything. It was odd. He'd watched many of them, but Bumblebee hadn't known that humans could be such complicated creatures, too, laughing and crying and screaming all in a few hours.

Finally, the girl seemed to collect herself and sigh, wiping her face with a handkerchief from her little bag. "I just want to drive away," she repeated, voice clammy, and decisively pulled the seatbelt over herself. She stepped on the pedal without turning the key like an idiot, but she _was_ drunk. Bumblebee let it pass and pretended that he had already rumbled to life and moved forward accordingly.

And then, for a long moment, they were both still. Jamie was glancing behind her, trying to gauge where to move, but did nothing to effect such a change. Instead she sighed, apparently giving up and trying to unlock her belt. Bumblebee did not allow her to. It seemed custom here to know how to drive, and though he'd heard them mention that she couldn't, he didn't believe it. Driving was a skill that could be learned, and learning new things even after the horror of losing so many friends in Cybertron had always cheered him up. Maybe it would work with her.

"This car is so faulty," Jamie groaned, a little ungratefully, in Bumblebee's opinion. "I'm almost twenty-one and I can't drive, dammit! Then you think you can screw that tennis bitch behind my back and then try to just _make it right because you say so_? Screw you, Nathan!" she screamed again, hitting his wheel with a fist then crying out about how painful the action was.

Bumblebee was utterly confused. He searched the web again with the operational keywords and finally understood that the girl's partner had 'cheated' on her, causing much grief. Unlike on Cybertron, his home planet, where partners were made for life, this was a common occurrence on Earth. The poor woman. Even he didn't need the internet to know that it must have been devastating. The Camaro was even more determined now to help her.

Right as he did, Jamie stepped on the gas again, having decided to try—since she was stuck in the stupid car anyway. She was half-expecting to end up driving straight into the fountain through Dad's grass, but somehow, by some miracle from above, she _backed out like a proper driver_. Even better than a proper driver—she backed out perfectly like a pro.

"Oh my God," she gasped, hands gripping the wheel for dear life. The ordeal with Nathan had sobered her up somewhat, but the alcohol was still very much in her system. "Is the world ending!?" she asked no one in particular, then cheered for herself as if they'd won the championships. She decided to try to drive straight and make a turn down the street without running over the sidewalk...

And she did.

"I can drive!" she screamed, throwing her hands in the air. The steering wheel turned back without her holding it, but Jamie didn't notice. "_I can driiiiiiiive_!"

Bumblebee took back what he'd thought to himself earlier. Sam had implied that his sister was a terrible driver. Now that he'd witnessed that personally, he could wholeheartedly agree. Still, at least she'd begun yelling happily as opposed to whacking the steering wheel in fury. Were all human women so frightening when intoxicated?

"Now for some music," Jamie decided, rubbing her hands together and looking for which knob to turn for the radio.

"_she had a lot on her mind / and she didn't pay attention / she was_" –the radio played, then seemed to fizzle out, only to continue– "_take the wheel / take it from my hands_" –until Jamie said, "Oh, shit!" and clamped her hands down on the wheel. Then she turned to the radio and said, "Not that song! How do you change the stations on this thing? Radio, I want something angry about driving far, far away! Got it?"

Jamie laughed to herself, knowing the radio couldn't actually hear her. Bumblebee would have shaken his head if he were in his true form—the one Sam had witnessed. His sister had called the Camaro a danger to her health, but she was a danger to everyone else's. Now he understood why drunk driving was a punishable offense. Scrolling through existing songs, he finally found one that might be to her ridiculous, drunk taste.

Finally, a song began on the radio for Jamie. Clapping, first, then a guitar, then another one, then drums. She recognized this song. "I want this! This one!" she said, pointing at the radio.

"_I know you / so better than the city in the rear view_," she sang along, "_I drive to / eliminate the ball that I'm chained to / Take me / break me_..."

Bumblebee had to agree that it was an entertaining piece—until she began to hit the high notes, that was. And by that he meant when she'd begun _not _to hit them, though she did try very hard.

At one point, driving out of the neighborhood and the city, Jamie yelled, "Best night ever!"

Well, thought the Camaro who never wanted to hear his passenger sing ever again, at least she was happy.

* * *

><p>Something soft bounced off Jamie's face right as she heard the car engine die down. She groaned, groggily opening her eyes, and found herself staring at the ceiling of Sam's Camaro. On the floor after hitting her nose was one of its stuffed toys, which must have fallen from the back.<p>

The back?

_I'll stay strong / I'm pushing on the pedal till I break dawn_

Jamie was a lazy hangover type—she didn't get a headache, but she did become extremely lethargic for the rest of the day, leaving her training to take the blow for it. She forced her arm to move, grabbing the plushie and setting it back in place, and tried to recall the events of the previous night. Or morning, since she could see sunlight through her windows.

_So I'm gone / go find another shoulder you can cry on_

She'd gone to the club with Lucy and the others, but Jane had dropped her off early instead of her joining the sleepover. She'd been angry—because of Nathan. Jamie groaned when she realized how she'd screamed at them all. While they hadn't had the right to butt into her business and try to make her talk to Nathan again, she'd said a lot of mean things, acted out...but what did that have to do with waking up in the car?

_Take me / break me_

That old song Night Drive was stuck in her head... _Oh, yeah_. It was playing over and over on the radio when she drove—_she drove_! Wow, that was a nice memory. She vaguely recalled leaving the car for a second to vomit and use the bathroom somewhere, then coming back and...seeing the HOLLYWOOD sign? She couldn't imagine having been able to drive all the way to Hollywood and make it back in time for...what time was it?

Jamie got up abruptly, groaned at the way black splotches erupted in her vision, and searched the car for her clutch once they cleared. Finding it in the front seat, she pulled her phone out.

6 o' clock—in the afternoon...? How long had she been out?

And a text from mom just this morning: _Hi honey! Sam was arrested last night. Hope you're having a great sleepover! Dad says be home by 11._

"Arrested?" she read aloud. "For what?"

Determined to get answers and a change of clothes, Jamie climbed into the front seat of the Camaro—right as Sam came darting out of the house and all over dad's grass from the backyard like something was on fire.

"Sam?" she called out, trying to open the door, but it was jammed again. She settled for yelling through the open window for now. "Hey, Sam! Why were you arrested?"

Sam slowed, jaw dropping at the sight of her in the car, and he looked pissed.

"Whoa, don't be mad," Jamie blinked. "Look, I'm sorry I took the car out for a drive last night—"

"That was you!?" He seemed even angrier, coming closer. "Were you playing a _prank _ on me?"

"...What are you talking about? I just got here." Jamie looked around. "I think. I came home at about three something...then I saw your car by the garage and drove around."

Sam looked more confused now than furious. Scared, too. "Oh my God," he muttered to himself, eyeing her in disbelief as he backed away. "It's not just a living car. It's invasion of the body snatchers. Holy _shit_."

"Sam, get back here! You have to help me climb out of the car," she whined, sticking an arm out in order to point at herself. "I'm in heels and a tight dress! I don't want to fall out of the window in these!"

"You're not Jamie!" was Sam's reply, running over by Mojo's 'crib' in the yard and getting onto Mom's pink bike. "My sister doesn't drive, all right? Get away from me!"

Jamie watched her brother pedal away and didn't know whether to be amused or scared. "What is he on?" She sat back in the driver's seat and looked for the keys. How had she turned this on earlier? "Guess I should follow him and make sure he's okay—"

Her words were like magic. The driver's seatbelt strapped itself over her, locking in place as the car roared to life and turned onto Dad's path, speeding out of the neighborhood and into the city proper after Sam. By itself. Without a key, or her touching the wheel, or stepping on the gas.

The car was alive.

Jamie paused, freezing in her spot and watching the wheel turn as appropriate. She sat back slowly, gaze shifting to the pedal near her feet.

The car was _alive_.

"_Holy shit!_"


End file.
